


i can't focus with a lens when you're in sight

by xxBech



Series: anchorage [2]
Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: ....well kinda, Bipolar Disorder, Fluff, M/M, movie date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 03:26:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10913349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxBech/pseuds/xxBech
Summary: in which Even's got agreatidea for a date.an extra moment fromtorches, set sometime after chapter two and before chapter six. can totally be read as a standalone, but context helps.





	i can't focus with a lens when you're in sight

**Author's Note:**

> _so--_ new chapter tomorrow, 16 May. i wrote this to compensate for the apparent copious amounts of pain y'all are going through. alongside that, Even's bipolar disorder... steadily increases in importance to the plot. i feel like this could illustrate a little integration, or even how his behavior on depressants might be expressed when he's on an incline. 
> 
> if you're here to read a one shot, here's hypomanic-suppressed Even pursuing a _great_ movie date with _i-just-want-to-chill-_ Isak. It's cute. I promise.

Even’s got 50 kroner and frayed shoelaces to prove that he’s late-- he’s been stamping on them the entire sprint to the tram stop, coins manifesting their own sweat between the oily grips of his fingers. He smells like metal as he hands them in for a ticket. It’s in his jacket, underneath his fingernails.

Getting on the tram isn’t so bad when he has places to be, when his car’s been siphoned and he’s sort of-- sort of getting tunnel vision, he figures as he rubs the heels of his palms to his eyes. It seems like he barely has time to collect himself, tie his shoes and make sure everything in his bag isn’t-- somehow didn’t get mutilated during his fucking _marathon._

There’s no relief that comes out of seeing the dahlias intact, nothing to celebrate when he sees all the glass jars tucked in place despite the kind of clanking they made on the way down here to indicate otherwise; the water in a few of them seems to project itself to the inside of Even’s eyes-- he’s not crying, but his brain’s felt like soup since two this morning and--

He’s not gonna be nauseous, get it together, Even. You have this.

Every shift of the flooring makes something splint up his shins like they’ve fallen asleep. The pole he’s pretending his grip isn’t shaking in kind of grounds him there, but. It’s not. Notable. 

What’s notable is the sheer of number of text messages he has-- Isak’s not typically one for sending strings of messages like he is, it kind of indicates to Even that the guy’s panicking. He kind of is, too, though, so. 

He swallows it down and jams headphones in his ears, eyeing the others passengers briefly as the lighting of his phone seems to illuminate _everything_ from the peach fuzz on their chins to the bolts in the ceiling above. It makes Even feels like he’s in a dentist’s office.

_til **Isak** (20:59) ok you can leave now  <3_

__**Isak** (20:59) what  
**Isak** (20:59) Even  
**Isak** (20:59) why did you give yourself a head start what  
**Isak** (20:59) Even i don’t want you to keep waiting on me what the hell  
**Isak** (21:00) Even 

__til **Isak** (21:00) i’m still right here! it’s okay  <3_ _

__He relishes in the light communication; it’s nothing more taxing than he can handle, he really does find something grounding in telling Isak things will be fine. Maybe it’s a roundabout way of trying to convince himself of the same, but, like, he’s not trying to get _himself_ to stop shaking._ _

__But the tram does stop eventually, finding him bolting through the doors before they’ve completely opened. He wasn’t sure why he thought getting _off_ the damn machine would help his jitters, and it kind of crosses his mind-- _if the shaking doesn’t stop in ten minutes, call mom.__ _

__He checks the time again (21:09), shoving his way through crowded sidewalks (if those jars aren’t broken now, he might find himself thanking god) and checking Google maps eleven, twelve times to ensure-- yeah, he’s found it._ _

__His sister works at this movie theatre downtown that may as well have belonged to William the Conqueror or something, all spectacular arches and details Even’s mind can’t focus on long enough to soak up. He knows it’s beautiful, he marvels at it every time he drops her off here, he knows there’s decorations that he wants to incorporate into his own film settings settled into the ceiling--_ _

__But he really, really doesn’t have time. Isak _somehow_ didn’t beat him here. There was a reason he left early._ _

__Okay, _maybe_ half of it was to run off his energy, but was anyone gonna _tell?__ _

__Maybe Anette would-- she’s staring at him through the glass like she’s seen a ghost. He waves her off and she returns it, squeezing in the side door and finding his way upstairs. He takes them three at a time (he’s never been quite this thankful for having long legs) and finds himself at the reel for theatre eleven in less time than he can register blinking._ _

__He swallows as he cracks open the door (which-- weighs like a tonne, _what),_ ensuring his date really didn’t beat him here before shutting it behind him. _ _

__The concept was magic. Even was pretty proud of himself. Throwing it together in less than two hours only added to the magic of it, if he did say so himself; the evening they were first alone, he’d ended up telling Isak enough about himself to write a book (Isak did the same, as though Even hadn’t already been in love with him for weeks). One of those things was was his borderline _obsession_ (bad word choice, he’d learned immediately after) with cinematic grandeur -- the details are just as important as the concept itself, things about how color grading dramatically impacts the tone of the story you’re telling--_ _

__Isak listened with rampant attention, and Even. Was so fucking gone. It was bruising._ _

__Long story short, after listening to the guy _go off_ about cinematography, Isak had asked if he had a favorite director, because how can someone with a taste so specific find someone who appeals to it?_ _

__The answer was easy. One of the whole _reasons_ he knew what he liked is because Baz Luhrmann showed it to him in the kind of vivid technicolor typically saved for people experiencing the kind of high Even’s scared of. Isak got a look on his face Even couldn’t describe, made his heart soar in his throat like--_ _

__Kind of like it was right now, as he pulled out mason jar after mason jar from his backpack. Two of them were half-filled with water, the other six with weird little snacks Even already _knows_ Isak’s gonna call him out for being a hipster for. Roasted almonds are good. Bite him._ _

__Anyway._ _

__Isak had fessed up that he went home and looked up Baz Luhrmann, bought and watched and rewatched Romeo + Juliet until he _”got it”_ and maybe it wasn't quite his thing, but-- like, really the only thing you have to do to worm your way into Even’s heart was take an interest in the things he cares about. Most people are like that-- but Even’s been without that for so long, it--_ _

__He’s _gone_ for Isak, whether or not the guy knows it is something completely different. Even can at least _try_ to keep himself calm and collected, and in his defense, he’s done a damn good job?_ _

__He smiles to himself as he pulls the little dahlias from where they were perched precariously inside his bag, fitting them inside one of the mason jars and setting the little arrangement in a circle atop the velvety blanket he’d stolen from his mom’s room. It sprawled out over most of the viewing room (which was relatively small regardless), and honestly, if Even had candles or something--_ _

__The door clicking snaps him out of it so quickly he twinges his neck, hissing as the door creaks open, and--_ _

__Isak’s so. So--_ _

__“Hey,” He breathes, laughing a little as the door shuts behind him. “Sorry I freaked out, I just--”_ _

__“It’s okay,” Even says it softly, as smoothly as he can manage with the storm in his chest. He gets up from his knees, sort of meets Isak in the middle with a hug that leaves both of them breathless and--_ _

__Two things happen at once: Even’s once again startled by how close Isak is to him, not just physically but-- like in, in the sense that Even has no idea what he’d do if Isak left. But, but _also_ physically, because Even _knows_ what that’s like, like foreign fingertips are gasoline and your own skin is the match. It’s destructive and he’s blown away when Isak just goes pliant against him, in his arms, and--_ _

__And the second thing he notices is that he can’t focus on it. The sigh he lets out is a tell, he guesses, otherwise wouldn't be shrinking, wouldn't be mumbling _what's up?_ into his shoulder. _ _

__“Sometimes my mind turns into a broken record, it keep skipping lines and scratching in weird places,” He whispers, which makes Isak jar a little. It was probably unexpected. “I never know-- like, I can kind of keep up with it, but it feels like I’m on the downswing of a rollercoaster and can’t keep my eyes open?”_ _

__Isak pulls back a little, not far enough for Even to let go (he isn’t sure he could if he wanted to) but so that he can make eye contact._ _

__“Are you… is everything okay?” He asks, earthy eyes blooming with concern. Even swallows._ _

__“This… happens sometimes. If I start doing weird shit--”_ _

__“Weirder than calling me out of my house at, what,” he moves an arm from Even’s bicep to check his phone. “21:21?”_ _

__Even purses his lips._ _

__“Is it really?”_ _

__“What? Weird?” Isak slips his phone back, winding his arm around Even’s neck to knock their foreheads together. He’s… smiling. Isak is smiling. Even feels the storm turn into something fluttery, something _hot._ It feels like it’s popping before he can even register that he’s swiped his hands to fit over Isak’s ribcage, muttering _oh, i’ll show you weird,_ and digging his fingers in, pressing him back against the door. Isak sputters hilariously, pushing at Even’s chest and squealing for him to get off, but--_ _

__Like, Even can’t help giggling back when Isak’s smile splits his cheeks, when tears gather as he holds him back-- he does quit eventually, leaving Isak gasping and sputtering and _laughing_ and _wow_ Even really-- really wants to keep that look on his face forever? All flushed and tousled and--_ _

__Don’t._ _

__He swallows, moves back a little so Isak can properly catch his breath._ _

__“You little bitch,” Isak’s laughing breathlessly, which gets a mock-offended gasp out of the other boy. He takes a mental note of how bloodshot Isak's eyes are right then, and maybe he can't quite put a finger on why– but there's also little purple crescents beneath his bottom lids that let a question dig its cleats in before running downfield._ _

__“Listen, you,” He giggles, pushing up against Isak again and getting a frightened little huff out of him but-- that’s--_ _

__Even’s grappling him by the underside of his thighs, and he laughs as Isak lets out a noise several octaves higher than he’s probably willing to admit to. He lifts him up like that, Isak’s knees and forearms locking around him like the kind of vice Even probably needs right now._ _

__“What-- what are you doing,” Isak asks flatly despite how wide his eyes are. It makes Even laugh again. “You’re awfully handsy tonight,” He says over it._ _

__“Well, I can put you down,” He means to say it in earnest, but there’s still too many letters wrapping around his cerebral cortex like a chain link fence to prisons, so it comes out in a laugh-- which, thankfully, is replied to by Isak’s knees holding a little tighter, his eyes a little wider. Even huffs out another laugh, dropping his forehead against Isak’s shoulder._ _

__“You’re also-- Even?” Isak threads his fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. Even looks back up, decides he likes how breathless Isak is when their noses bump. “You’re also talking like, a mile a minute, and you’re all flushed, like-- are you okay?” He says it with concern, and for a second, Even can feel his heart slow._ _

__“I-- am I scaring you?” He asks. Isak bites his lip._ _

__“You’re _worrying_ me.” Even registers it as a whisper. He lets out a little sigh, nods, slowly lets Isak down; it’s not like he goes far, though, arms still twined around Even. Their height difference is really hardly noticeable-- Isak seems to barely shift down. Something’s comforting about it. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong if you don’t want to.”_ _

__“It’s just-- my brain goes so _fast._ My body’s doing stuff before my brain can think about doing it.” He shrugs. Isak purses his lips._ _

__“Has this happened before?” He asks gently, tilting his head a little. It makes Even smile._ _

__“Yeah, it, uh… I think about it a lot.”_ _

__“Do you ever… indulge it?” Isak’s voice is careful, almost sounds like he’s scared to ask questions. The idea sends a cold thread down Even’s diaphragm before he realizes-- he sees the spark in Isak’s eyes. “I know it’s a school night, but-- you sound like the kind of guy who needs to let loose once in awhile, you know? And I know I’m kind of mundane and, like, _literally_ scared of everything, but…”_ _

__“Do you have something in mind?”_ _

__“I see you and your almonds,” Isak chuckles, and there it is, Even was _so right--_ “You know me and my parks.”_ _

__Maybe-- maybe watching a movie in a room regularly reserved for employees while Even’s like a live wire wouldn’t have been the brightest idea in the first place. He kind of wants to see what Isak’s got in mind, and-- and--_ _

__In the long run, he’s _extraordinarily_ thankful for the evening in general. Sure it’s an October Wednesday night, but _listen--_ listen, sitting on a blanket at the base of the pond in Slottsparken, when it’s so dark outside they can’t quite see each other all the way, tossing almonds back and forth (Even’s _really_ good at catching stuff in his mouth, he’ll have you know) and having weirdly passionate conversations--_ _

__Not, not… like _that._ Even tosses grapes to Isak as he chats animatedly about dumb films he made at Bakka, about this film school in Munich, about the reasons he’s obsessed with visionaries and finding meaning in blades of grass. He tells Isak more about The Get Down (who-- he’s completely unaware Isak had actually binged watched it one night when he couldn’t sleep), about how pissed off he is that Leonardo DiCaprio didn’t win an Oscar for his role in The Great Gatsby--_ _

__“You seem like a roaring 20s kinda guy,” Isak says, making Even laugh._ _

__“Are you kidding me? That would have been a horrible time to live. Unless your name is Daisy Buchanan, you’re always having a bad time. And even then, it’s fuckin' pretty bad!” He laughs, and Isak rolls his eyes so hard it-- it makes Even bubble._ _

__“No, I mean the aesthetic,” He says, and Even considers this a moment before nodding. “Like-- you know. ‘The exhilarating ripple of her voice was a wild tonic in the rain.’ You’re that stuff.”_ _

__Even looked at him incredulously. Isak quirked a brow._ _

__“So much just happened,” He laughed, smile threatening to make his cheeks sore. “Did-- one, did you just _quote_ The Great Gatsby to me, and _two,_ you sayin’ my voice has an _exhilarating ripple?”__ _

__Isak flushed down his neck, adam’s apple bobbing at he swallowed and wow, Even’s pretty sure he’ll never stop laughing._ _

__“It’s also a movie I may have watched,” He mutters, rolling an almond between his fingers._ _

__“Oh no, you _read_ it, Isak,” Even teased, crawling forward on his hands and knees. Isak flashed him an embarrassed glance._ _

__“No I didn’t!” He said, leaning back on his hands and trying to look offended but really-- really, it was about the damn cutest thing Even’s ever seen._ _

__“That was a quote from the book!” He laughed. “What else did you--”_ _

__Isak sneered at him a little, bumping their noses together. Even couldn’t help it-- planted a wet kiss on his cheek, laughed when Isak ducked back with a little gasp and wiped at his cheek with his sleeve. “What else did you read? Or… watch?” He asked, flopping over suddenly and laying his head between Isak’s crossed legs._ _

__He looked down at him with a blush smattering his cheeks in weird places-- unattractive places, really, but Even’s vision was a little fuzzy and Isak’s moonlit nose paid him a tonne of favors. Isak’s palms floated for a moment before a ginger finger traced the line of Even’s adam’s apple._ _

__“Can I go forward when my heart is here? Turn back, dull earth, and find thy center out,” He mumbled, eyes flicking away from Even’s face. He knows the quote, sure, Isak had already mentioned watching Romeo + Juliet, but..._ _

__“And… where is your heart?” Even asked, quirking a brow playfully, but. Isak just swallowed, picked up Even’s hand to place against his chest-- and Even’s own heart stops for a moment as he registers how fucking _hard_ Isak’s is beating._ _

____

***

When Even wakes up, he’s freezing.

He blinks as his eyes readjust to the morning light filtering through the windows of his car, the passenger seat he’s lying in laid all the way back-- he’s on his stomach, shoulders cramped and lips cracked. He moves to stretch, adjust himself, but-- there’s weight on his fingers. He glances down to see another hand clutched in his.

It’s disorienting for a moment before he looks up to where Isak is lying across the backseat, curled in on himself as he faced toward Even-- his hood is pulled down over his eyes, lips parted and breath so soft it kind of lulls Even back down. Isak’s gripping his hand like he’s afraid he’ll lose it or something.

That kind of breaks Even’s heart. He shifts a little to rest his chin on the headrest, noting how close they are, how they’d fallen asleep talking to each other like this-- and then it hits him.

That was-- he--

Had an episode.

In front of Isak?

And he didn’t-- didn’t _freak out?_ Didn’t _run?_ Probably barely understood what was happening, but allowed Even to indulge in feeling like his brain was inside a microwave. It makes Even’s heart thud uncomfortably in his ribs, almost like a muscle spasm for a moment. 

But Isak didn’t… leave?

“I don’t know what you’re thinking about,” He hears, making him jolt in the seat (and his calf hit the glove box, fucking _ow,_ thanks) and turn to face Isak. The boy’s eyes are so droopy you’d think he was high, but his grip hasn’t lessened. “But I can tell you’re thinking too hard about it.”

“Thank you,” Even finds himself murmuring, almost like anything louder would pop the bubble they’re nestled in. “Thank you for last night.”

“And thank _you_ for agreeing that driving to Hammerfest was a bad idea,” He mumbled, rubbing his cheek against the seat (well-- against the inside of his hoodie, but whatever). Even’s eyes widen comically, a little smile playing on Isak’s lips as he reels.

“I-- I tried to _what?”_

“Yeah,” Isak sighs like it’s _nothing._ “You were like, ‘let’s go see your sister!’ and stuff. It was pretty funny for a minute, but, like… you started punching in the directions on your phone and it got a little too real for me, but it was pretty easy to talk you out of it when you realized we had school in five hours.” His voice is so sleepy, so _soft_ and Even is overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him for, like, a hundred reasons. 

“Oh, shit,” He says, unmoving as Isak brings their hands to his cushion. He presses dry lips against the back of Even’s hand. And if that wasn’t the most soothing thing that’s happened all week. “We-- we have to go to school?”

“School started, like… three hours ago,” Isak mumbles, and Even snaps another look at him. _”What?_ Waking you up was a bad idea. I could tell you needed the sleep, Nas.”

“Nas?” Even furrows his brow. He can feel Isak smile against his knuckles.

“I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death…” He rolled his eyes. Even let out a huff of laughter. What the fuck. Isak never stops amazing him-- fuckin’, learning about his favorite stories and music. What the hell. He’s in so deep.

“You-- Isak,” He laughs. “That’s not how his name is pronounced.”

“Yeah? Tell that to--” He stops, letting go of Even’s hand to flip him off and-- and now Even’s _really_ laughing, what--

He can’t help it. He scoots himself forward so that he hovers over Isak, palming either side of his face to pepper kisses over his cheeks.

“Even--” Isak pushes at him, making them both giggle and breathe the same air and-- and wow, Isak’s got pretty eyes. 

“Can I-- can we, just,” He smiles, pushes his nose against Isak’s. “Can I just stay in here with you forever?”

Something softens in Isak’s gaze, suddenly a little too real and a little too tender.

“We can do that,” he murmurs.

**Author's Note:**

> I want y'all to know– this chapter came straight out of a dream I had yesterday in which I convinced my friend Spencer to break into a movie theatre with me, where we stole all the reels of the new Transformer movies and stuffed Voltron reels instead. I vividly remember "you want fuckin robots? we'll give you some fuckin robots. Fuckin gay ass robots. Eat dick, Michael Bay."
> 
> anyway. i hope you enjoyed your daily programming of _if-you-sleep-in-your-car-you-get-pneumonia._ tune in next time when i post a one shot about [this OTP prompt.](http://otpisms.tumblr.com/post/157154299376/otp-idea-752)


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